It was, in fact, an ordinary day in a long line of ordinary days, and, really, wasn't that was juvenilia was about? A series of unimportant events that seem like The Most Important Thing Ever when they happened, but in retrospect affected only a tiny proportion of your life.
There were still those Important Things, really, but Remus was disinclined to acquiesce to his youth's conglomerate tendencies. James being a prat was nothing new, but being a prat to them, and because of Lily, was fairly out of the ordinary -- or maybe not, only he'd never had his lot shoved in with Sirius' before, and this, he reminded himself, was why he'd been beating his emotions down with a shovel until now, the social repercussions he'd face -- especially as the reason Lily was influencing James' negative behavior rather than the reverse was for something Remus had never known to associate her with.
But, really, it was an ordinary day. Lily seemed to be releasing James from his prat absolutions slowly but surely, a fact Remus only knew because Sirius felt the urge to tell him every time something new may or may not have occurred, based on observations made off a sheet of magical parchment. Speaking to the fourth floor boudoir meant she was beginning to get over it, but the tower Dutch painting meant that she was still conflicted. Remus wasn't sure he didn't have those backwards, but he also wasn't sure it mattered.
"And now she's pacing back and forth outside the library; what does that mean? That she's going to research whatever it is she does get or is, what, stuck on? I mean, research is a good sign, right, it means she wants more information to come to an informed conclusion? Or is that you? Which one of you does that? James obsesses so constantly that I think I'm confusing all of my own thoughts with his. Maybe I should just call her 'that woman' until he realizes that if she's got this big a problem with us, she's obviously not a keeper. Marauders before everyone else, obviously, and hello there, what is Peter doing shuffling around near your bed in the dormitory? Is he pinching homework again? I mean, he can always just ask, can't he, you're a massive pushover, and--"
Remus was sure Sirius could continue talking until the end of time. Truly, sincerely, the man never seemed to shut up. Criminally incapable of not annoying the pants off everyone around him -- or hopefully not everyone around him, not literally anyway, Remus thought, eyes crossing at the nonsensical nature of his own thoughts.
And then, of course, were the random announcements Remus was supposed to have been paying attention to, like, "Hello, I think we should get ice cream," and "I'm going to go get ice cream, you want chocolate, don't you? You always want chocolate. Unless that's Lily, too; do you see how that man has me confused?"
"Yes, I like chocolate," Remus said quickly, as if that would stop the barrage of pointless words for a few seconds longer. "I'd give you the money, but I think you owe me your savings at this point, so that seems foolish."
This jibe of course had its intended effect, as James' continued ranting had not managed to confuse Remus as it apparently had Sirius, so he could still predict the actions of his fellow Marauders. It also helped that he knew Sirius was really just making up his affliction, due to some masculine need to pretend like he didn't remember little details about people's lives because a True Man doesn't care about things like that.
Really, Remus only pretended to understand what on earth that meant, because apparently he was broken, and didn't have that True Man filter, and he let himself know things, and remember things. When he heard this, Sirius said, more confusingly, that it was okay, because it was Remus, and Remus was just expected to know things, manly or not. Remus chose to simply accept this and move on. It was the best option.
When Sirius returned with ice cream, Remus ate it while he studied -- finals were so nicely timed in the summer, so it was hot, and humid, and miserable, and only ice cream really made it better, so Remus was more inclined to let Sirius rant semi-pointlessly in the background, so long as Sirius brought him ice cream.
"And did you see, Remus, that Ravenclaw boy, Hammond, sneaking into the offices? I bet he was going for the DADA test, he's absolutely awful at it, have you seen him trying to cast a patronus in the practice rooms? He's bollocks at it, truly. Almost impressively awful. I say, what if he just lets himself fail, and gets the best grade for being so astoundingly bad? If I was a professor, I would do that. Give grades for amusement. Or for utter humiliation."
Remus knew how these conversations worked, at this point, and added, "Which is precisely why you will never be a teacher, and McGonagall refuses to let you tutor the first years. Because she can tell you'll be horrible and cruel. Which you are, you know; horrible and cruel."
Sirius gestured widely, as though offended, though Remus knew that he wasn't. "I would be an absolutely fantastic tutor, though, Moony, telling them what they actually needed to know! With me, there'd be no need to open those moth-eaten textbooks to find spells that don't really do anything anymore, since no one is going to try and poison your marmalade. I mean, marmalade is prepackaged now."
"I don't believe packaging has anything to do with poisoning, and besides, most people buy new textbooks. Your argument is centrally flawed," Remus muttered, scratching something onto the parchment next to him, some strange part of his brain recognizing it as important while the rest of his brain paid no attention at all. He'd study it again later, when Sirius had gone off to bother James, or a chicken, or whoever else it was he bothered when he wasn't bothering Remus.
"You just don't see the point, Moony. I would be a fantastic tutor. I would teach them things. Things they really needed to know. So worthwhile!" He put a hand down on Remus' book, covering the passage Remus was only partially paying attention to. "Take this, for example. I can tell you that you're studying phylacteries, and that they're utterly mythical, and that using them is so outdated that it's practically pointless, since, after all, they are mythical. See? Do you see how useful I am?"
Remus glowered up at Sirius, affixing a long-suffering expression to his face. "You are very useful to not completing my work, yes. And also, phylacteries are theoretically possible. Just because they've never been properly accomplished doesn't mean that they can't exist. Like the map; that wasn't theoretically possible, either, except in your and James' utterly ridiculous brains."
Gesturing again, but only one-armed, as the hand obscuring Remus' book remained in place, probably to annoy him, Sirius said, "But not relevant, you see, is what you should say, dear Moony. I told you all of the information that you ever really need to know about phylacteries. All that extra information on tests is just to make it look like reading the textbook isn't useless, and to justifying the cost of the textbook that we've been forced to buy. An utterly capitalistic idea! And how ultimately pointless. But, Moony, now that I've taught you, you don't need to keep studying." Sirius' thought was apparently the forced catalyst to the end of Remus' studying, as he grabbed the cover and slammed Remus' book shut. "So you have time for more interesting things, right? Like stalking James, or walking in on Peter hopefully stealing your homework, since I don't want to know what else he'd be doing by your bed, or stalking Lily -- wait, I already said that one, since stalking James is technically stalking Lily -- or, well, you know what I mean." He smiled charmingly, or at least in a manner that he thought was charming.
It only took a moment of glancing at his textbook to realize that he wasn't going to accomplish anything now, anyway, and if all else failed, he could force Sirius to help him study, put that ridiculously convenient brain to work under dire threat of absolutely no interaction. As he heaved his sigh of submission to Sirius' will, a gesture Sirius obviously recognized, Remus obligingly tilted his head upwards, allowing Sirius to kiss him in a motion that was meant to be a surprise, but really wasn't, predictable as it was. "Fine," Remus said simply, grabbing his book by the spine and smacking Sirius on the side of the head with it. "At least let me finish my ice cream first."